Behind the Tears
by Olivia House
Summary: When an attack hits close to home, all the detectives are thrown into the mix of a strange and unlikely case, hoping they won't lose one of their closest friends.


**Title**- Behind the Tears

**Author**- Olivia House

**Summary**- When an attack hits close to home, all the detectives are thrown into the mix of a strange and unlikely case, hoping they won't lose one of their closest friends.

**Disclaimer**- I don't own any of this. Not even "His Bony-Ness". I wish I did.

**Dedication**- My bestest buddies! Thanks for beta-ing and putting up with "The Odd, Fogged Window"

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Rain trickled down the cold, fogged glass windowpane, obscuring the dreary scene on the street below it. A tall, muscular man stood patiently beneath it, adjacent to a lamppost, oblivious to the rain dripping down onto his blank face. Two large, sapphire blue eyes stared fixated up at the right window of the third, and top-most floor of the brick apartment building before him. He stare at it in a dead silence, the familiar noises of busy Manhattan just a faint rumble in the distance. He tentatively stepped forward, his posture erect and alert, ready for any unsuspecting trouble that might have the misfortune to fall upon him.

He was clad in a pair of nice, dark slacks and a blue button-down shirt, a navy blue tie giving the ensemble an even more polished look. He shivered as a brisk, cold gust of wind whirled around him, and he pulled his black, woolen jacket even tighter around his muscular frame.

The man grasped the icy, metal door handle firmly with his left hand, keeping his right loosely on his Glock's holster, purely out of habit. He had learned from past experience, both from his service in the Marines and his long history in the New York Police Department, that you could never be too careful, whether you were on duty or not.

As he edged his was into the dimly lit, and empty, foyer, he was greeted with the familiar musty odor of damp cats, belonging to the landlady, who resided on the ground floor.

A brief grimace crossed his otherwise blank face as he traversed the hall to mount the dusty staircase. He halted for a moment at the foot of the stairs, becoming overly cautious for a split-second. Then without another heart-felt moment, he bounded up the cramped stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time to quicken his relatively short trip, instead of taking the elevator, up to the third floor of the building.

He paused again, breathless with anticipation, at the head of the stairs, feet away from apartment 225. He swallowed loudly, his heart pounding inside his chest, trying to clear his suddenly parched throat, before stepping up to the apartment door and knocking, his first hesitant rapping becoming brisk and firm as he did so, upon the hard wooden surface. He paused again, the echo of his knocking ringing in his ears as he listened for a response.

"Liv?" He called shyly, his deep, baritone voice echoing through the deserted landing. "Livia?" He echoed, before knocking on the door again, louder than before. He halted momentarily, hoping for a sound. Any sound that might signal she was home.

"Olivia," He called insistently, once more. "It's me, Elliot," He added quickly, in case his own partner could not recognize his voice. He continued to stare blankly at the door, when he heard his partner's voice, as clear as a bell, echoing inside his own head, a memory from only a few months past.

"_If you ever need anything, a place to stay, spend the night, et cetera," Olivia had laughed, as she gently pressed a key into his hand, "Just stop on by."_

Elliot jumped back into the present, with a lurch. He plunged his right hand into his pocket, delving for the key. Instead of retrieving the key, however, he pulled out his fist, clenched tight with miscellaneous items that had accumulated over time, due to his laziness.

A gum wrapper.

A scrap of paper.

Another piece of paper covering in his hasty scrawl.

A receipt.

Spare change.

His key ring. That's where it was! On his key ring with his own apartment key, Kathy's house, his locker at the gym, his locker at the Squadroom, his desk and Liv's apartment. There it was, nasty little bugger. Elliot plucked the key from its spot on the ring, and inserted it into the door's lock.

But to his dismay, the door refused to open when he tried it. Elliot, in his frustration, slammed his hand against the door, cursing as he felt something in it pop. Loudly.

"Benson," He shouted at the door, starting to get annoyed with this little charade. "You have until three." He continued, holding up three fingers and counting aloud, lowering a finger as he said each number.

"One…two…" He paused for a moment, listening. He heard what sounded like a muffled moan, not sure whether it was reality or his mind playing tricks on him, he leapt into action.

"Three," He grunted as he lifted a foot and knocked down the door, without a second thought.

Elliot stared at the door in astonishment, for it had not fallen, as it should have. He had kicked it off its hinges, his throbbing foot was complaining, but why had it not fallen?

"Damn," Elliot muttered under his breath. Something was wrong. He was sure of it. There was no legit reason that Olivia had for blocking the door. Elliot stepped up to it, now a tad confused by the turn of events, and grabbed the edges of the door, pulling it away from its frame, only to reveal what appeared to be the back of Olivia's bookcase.

Speechless, Elliot grabbed his cell phone, his heart plummeting. Jabbing the seven digits as quickly as he could, he lifted the phone to his ear, turning away from the doorway, as the shrill ringing started.

"Yeah?" A familiar voice answered after the forth, or fifth, ring.

"Fin, it's me," Elliot started quickly.

"Elliot?" The confused recipient asked.

"Yeah, look," Elliot sighed, "I'm over at Liv's, and… I think something happened."

"What?" Odafin's gruff voice inquired.

"Yeah," Elliot agreed. "She's not answering her cell, or her house," He added quickly, "And her bookcase, is um, blocking her doorway."

There was a moment of surprised silence before a different, more nasal voice with a harsher Brooklyn accent entered the conversation. "Maybe she doesn't want to see you."

"John?" Elliot asked stupidly. "Fin, what the hell?"

"Sorry, Elliot," Fin interjected quickly, "John put you on speaker since its 'rude to drive and talk on the phone' with his bony ass in the car," He said, the sarcasm plain in his voice.

"Oh," Elliot replied curtly, getting more annoyed by the second.

Fin, sensing the anxiety, asked, "When did you last talk to her?"

"Twenty minutes ago," was Elliot's sharp reply.

"Well let me drop off John—"

"Nuh uh," John inserted. "This sounds _way _too interesting to miss."

Elliot groaned inwardly, and after a moment, agreed, reluctantly, before disconnecting the call. He shoved the cell phone in his pocket and removed his coat, laying it over the dusty banister. He rolled up his sleeves, sweat now prominent on his pale face.

He walked up to the doorway, trying to examine the bookcase in the dim lighting. Gingerly, he felt the back of the large object, looking for an edge, or angle, to grasp.

"Come on," Elliot muttered desperately, when he suddenly found an edge. It wasn't much, but it was enough, and something to work with, at least. He grasped it as firmly as he could with his fingertips, grunting with effort as his fingers slipped. Finally, he caught a break and was able to move the heavy bookcase. Centimeters slowly budged into inches and Elliot could see more and more of the inside of Liv's apartment.

"Elliot!" Fin's voice exclaimed as he and John ran up the last flight of stairs. Immediately, John started analyzing the bookcase as Fin stared blankly at the doorway.

"She couldn't have moved that on her own," John muttered, turning to face a breathless Elliot and a silent Fin.

"Really?" Elliot snapped sarcastically, as he walked back up to the bookcase. He quickly wiped his dripping face on her handkerchief and repositioned himself to move it again.

John stepped forward, and motioned for Elliot to step aside for a moment. Elliot obliged, confused, as he and Fin watched in an awed silence as John slid through the narrow opening and into Olivia's apartment. The other two detectives exchanged half somber, half amused looks before peering into the apartment after him.

"God," John muttered softly as he examined Olivia's apartment. There were shards of glass all over the floor, twinkling dangerously in the sudden light from the now visible sun. A vase looked as if it had been used in a struggle, and laid shattered, near the bookcase. That's when he spotted the blood. It speckled the hard wood floor, mingling with the dancing light from the broken glass.

Speechless, John followed the dangerously beautiful path, careful of where he tread. That's when he found the source of the shed blood, none other than fellow detective, Olivia Benson.

"Call a bus!" He yelped back to Elliot and Fin, who had somehow managed to get inside, before he awkwardly made his way to the fallen detective's side.

"Liv," John said gently, searching for a pulse, desperately. She was so still and limp. Behind him, John heard a strangled gasp from Elliot. John cautiously stepped back from Olivia, side-stepping the hazardous debris so Elliot could get to his partner.

Elliot nearly fell to his knees beside his partner's still form. He immediately grabbed Olivia's wrist, horrified, as he stared at her limp, bloodied, body. "Livia," Elliot pleaded desperately as he finally found a weak and erratic pulse. He gently smoothed back her matted hair from her face, revealing a large gash on her right cheek, and several bruises already forming on her otherwise, bloodless face.

"Liv," Elliot whispered softly, before he got to his feet, to carefully lift the unconscious detective. Fin and John rushed over to help support their limp friend's body. Elliot shook his head at the two of them, trying to hide the tears that had gathered in his eyes, but was surprised when he noticed the devastated expressions on his colleague's faces. They were just as anguished by this as he was.

Together, Elliot and Fin silently supported Olivia's maimed body and tenderly carried her out of the ruined apartment and onto a waiting stretcher.

The two EMT's took one look at Olivia and immediately strapped her to the stretcher and placed an oxygen mask around her nose and mouth, to supply a constant oxygen flow to her body. Then they wheeled her to the waiting elevator and conveyed her down to the idling ambulance, Elliot anxiously on their heels, following their every movement.

Once they had Olivia securely in the ambulance, Elliot leapt inside. He distantly heard the emergency sirens blaring and the anxious chatter of the EMTs as they slowly were able to stabilize Olivia's condition. Elliot kept his large hand firmly on her small, limp one, ignoring everything else as he focused on her battered body and prayed desperately that he wasn't too late to save his partner.

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**A/N- Please Review! Feedback is appreciated! Tell me what you liked and disliked. What pairings you would like to see, etc. Anything that comes to mind about this.  
Much Appreciated!**


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